Charles Palliser (104 page)

“Then it appears, Mr Gildersleeve,” said the Master, “that neither the documents nor the witness are required.”

“M’lud, I am very pleased,” said Mr Gildersleeve, expressionlessly. He shuffled his papers as if to mark a transition and then said: “I now ask the deponent to describe the circumstances of his mother’s death.”

This was a shock and I was only with difficulty able to stammer out the bare facts while Emma squeezed my hand in sympathy.

“You recorded your mother’s death with the parish clerk?” Mr Gildersleeve asked.

“Under what name?”

I told him, wondering that once again I had been asked this question.

Mr Gildersleeve turned to the Master: “M’lud, I ask the court
to
accept this evidence of the death of Mrs Peter Clothier, the daughter of Mr John Huffam.”

The Master addressed Mr Barbellion: “Are you content?”

“In this case, no, m’lud, I am not since so much hangs upon it.”

“Very well,” said Mr Gildersleeve. “Let the first witness, Mr Limpenny, be called.”

To my amazement the parish-clerk was brought in looking very much smarter than when I had seen him in
déshabillé
at his breakfast-table. I turned to Emma in surprise but she did not look at me.

In answer to Mr Gildersleeve’s questions the clerk confirmed what I had said, and once Mr Barbellion had cross-examined him without establishing anything more, he was released. Then the second witness was introduced, and this was Mrs Lillystone, the woman who had laid my mother out. The same ritual was gone through, and it was so extremely distressing to me to have to live through it again — this time under the gaze of strangers — that I covered my face with my hands.

When the woman had withdrawn, Mr Barbellion said: “M’lud, my party will accept this evidence of the death of the holder of the Huffam entail and its consequent devolution upon the deponent, Master John Clothier.”

“Very well,” said the Master, writing something down. “In that case, the story of the Huffam entail begins a new chapter. And let us hope that it will prove a happier one than any that has gone before.”

Now Mr Gildersleeve gathered his robes behind him and said, raising his voice and dragging out his words like a parson intoning the service: “M’lud, I move that the court now order that the infant, weakened as he is by illness m mind and body, be made a ward and assigned to the tender solicitude of the lady and gentleman by whom he was lovingly tended when he came to them destitute and ill and whom he now knows and loves as his own family and has learned to call his uncle and aunt.”

I deeply resented the reference to my illness having weakened my mind and wondered that legal gentlemen were allowed to insult those whom they were paid to defend.

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As Mr Gildersleeve sat down the Master said: “This appears eminently suitable. Mr Porteous is a most respectable gentleman, and, I am given to understand, a trusted officer of the distinguished banking-house of Quintard and Mimpriss.”

At this, however, Mr Barbellion rose: “M’lud, my party opposes this motion in the strongest possible terms.”

Emma’s hand tightened on my own.

“I cannot say I am surprised, Mr Barbellion,” said the Master. “However, be good enough to tell me on what particular grounds you found your objection.”

At that moment I noticed that Mr Gildersleeve turned and gave a signal to an usher who immediately left. Before Mr Barbellion, who had risen, could begin to speak, Mr Gildersleeve stood up and said: “M’lud, I ask your indulgence and that of m’learned friend for interrupting him, but I do so in order to ask leave of the court to permit Master Clothier to retire.”

“I don’t see any necessity for it, Mr Gildersleeve,” replied the Master. “Pray continue, Mr Barbellion.”

Mr Gildersleeve sat down and glanced angrily at Emma. Just as Mr Barbellion began to speak I noticed the usher return with Frank.

“M’lud,” began Mr Barbellion, “under less extraordinary circumstances neither the party I represent nor I myself would seek to remove an infant from the custody of a family to whom it was attached by both affinity and sentiment.”

At that moment Frank and the usher reached us but Emma waved them away. I was trying to follow what Mr Barbellion was saying for I was puzzled by his opening remarks. However, Mr Gildersleeve stood up again and Mr Barbellion stopped, stared at him in amazement, and then turned to the Master with his eyebrows raised as if dumbfoundered at the extraordinary effrontery of his colleague.

“Beg pardon, m’lud,” Mr Gildersleeve boldly began, “but as I had the privilege of explaining to your honour before these further instructions began, the deponent has been grievously ill and his mental faculties are not fully restored. It is most desirable that he be permitted to leave the court now.”

So that was what he had been saying to the Master! Altogether, I did not like the way things were going. And something that I had just heard was nagging at my memory. And how was I “attached by affinity” to the Porteouses?

“This seems an entirely reasonable request,” said the Master. “Do you object, Mr Barbellion?”

“To the contrary, m’lud. For as far as my party is concerned, the continued good health of the residuary entailee is crucial to their interests, and that is why the issue of his guardianship is so important.”

“Very well, Mr Gildersleeve. Master Clothier may leave the court. But before he departs I wish to establish the infant’s own wishes.”

He looked at me: “Tell me, Master Clothier, are you content to be legally entrusted to the guardianship of the family you are at present being looked after?”

I said nothing for I needed time to think about what I had learned.

“Well, young man,” said the Master after a few moments, “are you happy to have your uncle take custody of you and be given the authority over you, until your majority, of a father?”

“He is not my uncle!” I cried. “And I do not wish it.”

“Johnnie!” Emma hissed in my ear. “What can you be saying?”

THE VEIL

477

“M’lud,” said Mr Gildersleevc, merely raising one eyebrow with a smile of complicity for him and a frown in my direction.

The Master nodded: “What objection can you have?” he asked me.

“They mean me harm!” I cried. “I can’t tell why, but I don’t trust them.”

Emma turned to me a face that I will never forget : cold and hard and burning with anger.

“You have carried your point, Mr Gilderslceve,” the Master replied, nodding gravely.

“This is most lamentable. The boy may withdraw.”

Mr Gilderslecve nodded towards Frank and the usher and they immediately seized me by the arms, pinning them behind my back. Seeing what they were about I began to shout and struggle, but Frank laid his hand across my mouth as he picked me up, put me across his shoulder, and carried me swiftly towards the door while the usher followed, gripping my legs.

In the middle of all this I heard a few phrases of Mr Barbellion’s address: “…

highly unusual circumstances … the closeness of the blood relationship … a potential conflict with other interests …”

Just as we got to the door the beadle who was standing there opened it. The two men carrying me started to go through it but Frank, who was in front, stopped when he found that someone was already coming in. The usher who was behind him could not sec what was happening and, in the belief that the delay was caused by my resisting, pushed hard against me and Frank with the result that there was an undignified
mêlée
and we all came to a stop. The newcomer who had caused the confusion was a young man and from over Frank’s shoulder I found myself face to face and on a level with him: it was Henry Bellringer!

He stared in amazement and, unable to speak, I struggled as much as I could in the hope that he would recognise me, even though half of my face was concealed.

“What the devil is going on?” he demanded.

I heard Emma say behind me: “Hurry. What is the delay?”

Henry looked at her and she quickly lowered her veil. “Why,” he said, “fancy seeing you here, Miss …”

“Be quick, Frank,” she cut in.

Obedient to her command, the man-servant stepped rudely towards the door so that Henry was forced to stand aside, pressing himself against the jamb to let us by.

Just as we passed through the door I heard Mr Barbellion’s voice for the last time:

“… exposes that individual — and, indeed, the other members of his family — to invidious suspicions in the event of a melancholy occurrence that we must all hope will not take place, but of whose likelihood we have seen evidence today.”

This was all I heard, for a moment later we were in the ante-chamber and the beadle had closed the door behind us.

The usher led us back the way we had come and I was bundled into the hackney-carriage which had been waiting for us, and held inside it by Frank on the journey home. When he removed his hand from my mouth I had nothing to say, and Emma, whose face had lost the expression I had seen so briefly in court, did not speak either except to sigh reproachfully: “John, John, after all we have done for you!”

I had much to occupy me as I tried to make sense of the day’s occurrences.

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THE CLOTHIERS

Why had Mr Gildersleeve been at such pains to emphasize how ill I had been and to suggest that I was mentally deranged? Why had the judge taken up the usage that Mr Gildersleeve had suggested, and referred to Mr Porteous as my uncle? And what was the meaning of Mr Barbellion’s strange words as I was being borne out? Had I made a terrible mistake to repudiate the generosity of Emma’s family so openly, and thereby been guilty of the most culpable ingratitude?

When we got home Emma instructed Frank to take me to my room and put me to bed. He did so, removing my clothes — though not before I had managed to secrete in my hand the sovereign Mr Porteous had given me — and leaving me in my night-shirt. I heard him locking the door of the room as he left. Quickly, in case it was taken from me, I concealed the coin in the hem of my night-shirt.

All the remainder of the day I lay revolving in my head the words and actions I had witnessed that morning. I wished I understood the legal procedures of the Court of Chancery so that I might know what had really been going on. I thought of Henry. Had he recognised me? I wondered what he was doing there, and if it could be that he was a Chancery student. In that case he could have explained some things that puzzled me: why had the Porteouses been so anxious to take me before Chancery? And why were the circumstances of my mother’s death so important?

Gradually a certain suspicion crept into my mind, one that accounted for so much that when I looked back over the scene before the Master and interpreted it in the light of this supposition, everything fell into place as part of the design. And yet it was so improbable, so conspiratorial, that the mere fact that I had entertained it alarmed me.

How could I conceive such a thing! Perhaps I really was less well than I wanted to believe.

Friend of the Poor

Once again the scene is the best parlour of No. 17, Golden-square. Mrs Fortisquince has a visiter, to whom she is saying angrily: “If only I had known before! This will have disastrous consequences.”

“You should have trusted me. Tell me the whole story now.”

“Trust you! Why should I trust you over this, Mr Sancious, when the advice you gave me on my own affairs has turned out so badly? I have lost every penny that I invested.”

“And so have I! So has everybody. The very Bank of England came close to shutting its doors last Christmas!”

“That’s all very well but it was I and not you who lost everything on those bills of Quintard and Mimpriss that you persuaded me to buy!”

“Only because I had no money left to purchase them on my own account, my dear madam, for I had already lost everything! Otherwise I would have plunged as heavily as you. I was assured of their worth by a source that 1 had every reason to believe. And to tell the truth, I now believe I was lied to, and I am sorry for it. I have been entirely frank with you, Mrs Fortisquince, but you have not been so with me. There is much that you have kept from me. I can’t bear duplicity.”

The widow flushes and stares at him haughtily: “Kindly explain your meaning.”

“I have recently learned that the boy was followed to Barnards-inn,” the attorney says.

“Don’t look so innocent, Mrs Fortisquince. I know that that is where Henry Bellringer has his lodgings!”

“Followed? Who followed him?”

“Ah-hah, you must allow me my little secrets if you are going to have yours. Now, what are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing,” says Mrs Fortisquince. “It is a coincidence, that is all. A rather extraordinary one, but of no further significance.”

“But you see, madam,” Mr Sancious says, “I do not believe in mere coincidence.

There are hidden webs connecting you to the boy and to old Clothier and to Bellringer that I don’t entirely understand, though I comprehend more 479

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than you imagine.” She stiffens at this and he goes on: “Oh yes. You see, when you warned me not to mention my acquaintance with you to that delightful old gentleman, you alerted me to a connexion between you. I fancied that that wretched creature, Vulliamy, might be able to illuminate it. I was able to do him a favour and in return he undertook to give me the information I sought. I have just met him and he was very communicative. Very communicative indeed.”

The lady stares at him with cold fury.

“I’m sure you’d like to know what he told me.” When she makes no answer he goes on: “Well, first he informed me that his employer has been requiring him to follow me.

Consequently he knows about your connexion with me and has known about it for some time.”

Mrs Fortisquince gives a cry and covers her mouth with her hand.

“I feared this intelligence would dismay you,” the attorney continues. “For you see, Vulliamy explained the reason for that, too. I know the whole story, Mrs Fortisquince.